


Square Up

by bible



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Caretaking, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Fighting, Friendship, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Messy Boys Having Fun, Riding, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, chubby hoshino best hoshino, on both ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26119051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bible/pseuds/bible
Summary: “I bet you really like sweets, huh?”“What’s that supposed to mean?”Kaito smiles, playfully. The way Hoshino’s thighs rub together in those conservative black slacks really turns him on.“That you’re a sweet boy.”
Relationships: Hoshino Issei/Kaito Masaharu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	Square Up

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't edited yet bc i wrote it all in one sitting and my ass hurts so i'll fix it later please no bully

“Listen, Hoshino-kun!” Yagami slaps his hands on both of Hoshino’s shoulders in the breakroom of Genda Law Office, making his small frame jolt in surprise, his microwaved bento falling to the floor as he jumps.

Hoshino turns around on his heel, eyes wide and mouth agape. He steps on a piece of fried pork, the fried coating crunching underfoot.

“What’s your problem?!” he shouts, a hand going to his chest as if to cradle his rapidly beating heart.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Yagami says, blissfully ignoring the spilled katsu and rice on the floor, the umeboshi splattered like a droplet of blood on concrete after a street fight.

“You can’t sneak into the office like this!”

“I tried your apartment, but you weren’t there. Figured you’d be here. Not my fault you don’t lock the door when you’re working all alone. Why do you stay here so late, anyway?”

“I have a case, and I—I’m closing up _tonight_ —man… That was my _dinner_!”

“Dinner? It’s eleven at night. Look— _look_. I need you to come with me somewhere tonight. You’re not meeting any clients today, are you?”

Hoshino stares dejectedly at his fallen platter.

“Hoshino-kun, listen to me.”

“I’m not sucking you off again. …My poor bento.”

“Forget about that! Look, Hoshino-kun. Do me a favor. A big one.”

Hoshino crouches down and grabs the plastic tray, carefully picking up piece by piece of the spilled contents of his bento, his eyebrows knitted, his soft, pink lips jutted out in a wobbling pout. Like he’s genuinely on the verge of tears. _Poor kid_ , Yagami thinks, but as Hoshino bends over, he arches his neck for a look at his backside. For once, though, he isn’t looking at his ass, but rather the bulge of his wallet in his back pocket. Yagami steps around him and works it out of his pants.

“Hey!” Hoshino stands up and tries to snatch it from his hand. But Yagami holds it up over his head. Hoshino isn’t _short_ , but he’s not 6’4” either. The long expanse of Yagami’s stomach looks tempting to punch, to get him to hunch over and drop his wallet, but he thinks better of committing assault at his workplace.

“Should’ve gotten a chain, like me. Prevents theft.”

“Use it on your phone next time, then!” Hoshino crosses his arms, infuriated.

Yagami winces a little, “Sugiura told you about that?”

Hoshino tilts his head, his expression unreadable. It gives Yagami the creeps, so he squishes his face in his hand and shakes him admonishingly, “You really, really don’t want to listen to what I want, do you?”

“I was kind of hoping you’d forget about it if I ignored it long enough. But you’ve ruined my dinner and stolen my wallet, so I guess you’ve got me cornered.”

Yagami peels his wallet open and thumbs out a few bills, watching as Hoshino seethes but makes no move to stop him.

“Let me take this… one thousand yen and make it _ten_ thousand yen.”

“What, are you joining a multi-level marketing scheme now?”

“Listen, Hoshino. We’re going out. And I need your help. I’m out of cash this month—no fucking cases, and the ones we get are pathetic. Like, nothing. But I got a plan, okay? I just need you to invest a little, and we’ll split the winnings.”

“Split it? If I’m putting it all in? What’s fair about that?”

“I’m the one with the idea, and you’re the investor. It’s called capitalism, okay?”

“What’s your plan?” Hoshino asks, but there’s no real interest in his voice. Just the droll, exhausted compliance of being jerked around. Yagami always seems to get what he wants out of Hoshino. Not that Hoshino’s weak, or that he can’t stand up for himself—he’s just too invested in Yagami’s wellbeing. Comes with the territory of feeling indebted for all that Yagami’s done.

Plus, he likes him. He just gets on his fucking nerves.

“So, Kaito and I have a little side hustle going on.”

He lets the words sit in the air, watches Hoshino shift uncomfortably. He knows what he’s thinking. But he quickly extinguishes any thoughts that Yagami’s implications might be sexual. Hoshino doesn’t need that stress. Even if he gave him head once, he’s still a virgin. He’s not trying to scare him off—not when he needs his cash.

“We realized—back when we beat each other up in the street all the time—the crowds we were attracting were all starting to look the same, you know? Same faces, same people. As if we had an entourage. Then we realized they were _betting_ on us. Kaito would always win at first, but some geniuses realized that I had potential. So, they kept upping and upping the stakes on me. And of course, it paid off. I can throw Kaito to the ground anytime.”

“…And?”

“So, we’re gonna bet on a fight. Just like them.”

“You’re gonna fight Kaito-san and make me bet on you two?”

“Me? No way, man. Kaito’s the one fighting.”

Hoshino stares at him, bewildered, “You want _me_ to fight _Kaito-san_?!”

“What? No! We’re not rigging shit. It’s a fair and square match between Kaito and some dude in his boxing club. Did you know he’s in one?”

Hoshino shakes his head.

Yagami taps his own eyebrow, “Yeah, that’s how he got that little mark on his eyebrow. People think he gave it to himself, y’know, because it’s stylish right now. But I saw it when he was all fucked up. The guy he was fighting used a ring, cut him up real bad. It took a long time to heal. Used to be a gnarly ass scab.”

“Oh…” Hoshino shifts a little. He doesn’t really need the money. He’s got himself a good job, he’s comfortable, and there’s no need for him to bet on anything. But he can easily lose a few thousand yen without worrying, and Yagami could use it more than him. Especially if the lack of cases is as dire as he’s making them out to be, “Well, fine. You can take it. Bet on your friend.”

“But you gotta come with me, man!”

Hoshino winces, “Why?”

“Because if there’s more than one round, we’ve gotta keep upping the ante. You’re the one with the money. Besides, Kaito-san will perform better if you’re watching him.”

“What?”

Yagami leans down, his breath against his neck, and says, “He’s got a bit of a crush on you, you know.”

Hoshino steps back, flattening the umeboshi further, spreading it like ink. He looks down and feels nauseous. He doesn’t like watching fights. The violence grosses him out, it’s all too reminiscent of what happened with Kuroiwa…

“I don’t know, Yagami-san. I’ve got work.”

“Please, Hoshino-kun! I’m begging you. Or… I could just take your entire wallet with me.”

Hoshino knows he isn’t bluffing. These are his options.

“Clean the floor,” Hoshino sighs, and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on over his chubby arms, “And I’ll close up, I guess.”

*

The ring is humid and crowded, the poor circulation obviously coming from the broken air conditioning. Purgatory is a glistening little sea beneath Kamurocho, but the Coliseum doesn’t have that damp, cool air the rest of the underground subway station does. Bodies are packed here in the auditorium, eager to watch the oncoming fights. Looks pretty grim, Hoshino thinks, as he takes his seat. The ring’s mat is white, but there are dark, faded patches of spilled blood that are outlined in brown.

“This is for a boxing club?” Hoshino asks over the sound of the viewers chattering, standing on his toes to shout into Yagami’s ear. Yagami ignores him, too busy placing his bet on Kaito Masaharu, his back facing him. Hoshino turns around and surveys the room.

Realizes—very quickly—that this place doesn’t seem necessarily legal. He grimaces a little.

“Boxing club.” Sure, it is.

Yagami turns around and hauls Hoshino by his arm to their seats, grinning despite the sweat covering his face. Hoshino’s feel pretty clammy in his own jacket.

“You’re such a liar,” Hoshino sighs, plopping his chin in his hands, his elbows on either knee as he glares nervously at the ring.

“You’re gonna love it.”

“What if he loses?”

“Then we’re out thirty-thousand.”

“What?!” Hoshino whips his head around, “You bet that much?! You said you wanted a thousand yen!”

“Did I?” Yagami scratches the back of his head, “Well, better hope he wins, then.”

Hoshino bites his lip. This isn’t some equally matched, fair, team-friendly boxing match, after all. He sees a roster of fighters on a television screen overlooking the ring, and he squints to make out the faces. There are photos—like it’s really Street Fighter, or something—and between a sushi chef brandishing a _knife_ , and some dude in a tuxedo and the mask of an oni, is Kaito, looking smug and self-assured, shirtless with his knuckles wrapped.

“They use weapons?!”

“Well… Sometimes,” Yagami shrugs.

“Wh— _wha_ … Is Kaito-san gonna be okay?”

Yagami leans in and pinches the fat flesh of his cheek between his fingers. He presses their noses together and says, “He will, if you shut the hell up.”

Hoshino jerks out of his grip and threads his fingers through his hair, dropping his head.

Quietly, he mutters, “Please let this be a normal field trip…”

Yagami sits back, a smirk on his mouth, and says, “With the Ta-Bo? No way.”

*

Kaito isn’t a small man by any means. He’s taller than Yagami—impossibly—if only slightly. He’s built as fuck. But standing across from Iron Fist Sakai, he looks as small as Hoshino feels. The fights are randomly paired, and the only conditions for each fighter is to advance past three opponents to win. There are no rules, no limits save for that the matches must be one-on-one, and they must fight until the other can no longer stand up.

Iron Fist is in his usual: a wifebeater, slacks, a construction helmet, his glasses. Somehow, the protective headgear doesn’t quite seem fair. But Hoshino can’t fault the guy for not wanting to lose a brain cell or two, for not wanting internal hemorrhaging. Hoshino’s seen what Kaito is capable of. Kaito’s almost naked, in nothing but Everlast hand wraps and tight, black shorts that show off every crevice of his body. Hoshino’s surprised to see his back is bare—no irezumi in sight. He looks vulnerable, compared to his opponent. Despite the size difference, the minute they touch fists in the circular, dragon shaped emblem on the floor of the ring, and the gong sounds, Hoshino knows Sakai’s not going to withstand Kaito’s ability.

As dumb as Kaito can be, he seems to know what he’s doing. Hoshino leans forward as he watches Kaito stake out his opponent, back hunched, sparring in preparation. Sakai makes the first lunge, which Kaito side-steps nimbly, to land a brutal swing to the back of his neck. He probably would have gone for the head if he weren’t in a construction helmet.

“That can’t be a legal move,” Hoshino observes, but he doesn’t really know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t matter either way. This isn’t a legal venue, either. They’re both street fighters, you see?” he points at the screen overhead, their ages, fighting styles, and “special techniques” listed beneath their portraits.

Hoshino can’t look too long, more focused on the fight.

It’s strange. Hoshino’s not necessarily averse to violence. He watches his fair share of kung fu movies. But boxing, MMA—it’s never appealed to him when it’s not purposefully choreographed for entertainment. It makes him queasy, nervous. But even though now, in person, he has his own money—and friend—on the line, he doesn’t feel himself shying away like he does from the street fights Yagami finds himself in when they’re walking in Kamurocho together. He’s not ducking his head like expected, he’s not recoiling in his seat and as furious at Yagami as he thought he’d be.

Instead, he’s too focused on the way Kaito looks.

Has he always been this handsome? When he moves in the ring, he motions look almost leisurely, slow, and predatory, like a lion staking out its meat, as if Sakai has already been defeated. But his punches and kicks are quick, brutal moves that land in tender places, that flash before Hoshino’s eyes until Kaito’s drawn back, out of reach. Viper-like. Kaito may not be the sharpest in any facet of life but fighting, apparently, because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. Probably knows a thing or two about anatomy—or at least deconstructing it.

They brawl like that for a while, Sakai getting in a few hits to his face when Kaito’s got his back to the edge of the ring, against the cage. Other than that, though, his strikes are nimble and vicious, and have Sakai stumbling, have him moving as though he’s wading through syrup. All the while, Kaito bounces on the balls of his feet. Shoeless, unlike Sakai.

Sakai manages to get Kaito on his ass with a well-placed sweeping kick, but as he stands over him to stomp on his frame, Kaito gets out of the line of fire quickly, rolling onto his hip and narrowly avoiding a broken ribcage.

Hoshino leans over and grabs Yagami’s thigh, digging his nails in.

“Nah, don’t worry, don’t worry—”

“Yagami-san…”

“—This dumbass wore a shirt.”

Yagami must know his friend well, because Kaito grabs two fistfuls of his wifebeater as soon as he’s back on his feet, pulling Sakai close, before he leans forward and—with a few inches of height difference separating Kaito from Sakai—he smashes his forehead into Sakai’s nose rather than his helmet.

Sakai reels back, clutching at his face, and Kaito takes the opportunity to run up and drop kick him in the abdomen, sending Sakai’s body against the cage encasing every side of the hexagonal ring.

Sakai falls on his ass, and before Kaito can follow up with a barrage of punches, the gong has rung—and Kaito is announced the winner of round one.

Hoshino stands up in awe, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Kaito’s more of a monster than he’d thought, especially against a guy like Sakai.

Kaito stands, relatively untarnished and grinning, his hand raised over his head to give his audience a proud wave. Hoshino can’t help but stare openly, at his built frame, the way the overhead fluorescent lights catch the streams of sweat on his sides, his arms, running down his ribcage as he waves, making the perspirant look as though it’s glittering. His face is glowing, despite a reddishness in his nose from a punch making him look a little sore and brutalized. Sakai is carried from the ring, dazed and beaten.

Kaito turns around to give the other side of the audience a wave. The show-off that he is makes sure to blow a few kisses to the guys who are slouched in disappointment, having lost their bets on Sakai. Hoshino looks at Yagami’s seat, but he’s gone, already collecting his winnings from the bet vendor, only to place half of them on round two—double the stakes.

Hoshino takes the opportunity alone to stare at Kaito’s ass—the compression shorts reveal a lot more than his usual slacks, showing off the firm, round shape of his glutes, and when he turns around, Hoshino swallows dryly as he sees the slight sway of his dick between his legs, covered loosely in the cloth of his shorts.

Kaito catches his eye, then, and grins, raising both arms to acknowledge Hoshino.

Hoshino lifts a hand to wave back. The cloying, thick air smells of blood and sweat, and it makes his head throb.

Then, before he is brought back to reality in preparation for his second round, Kaito catches the way that Hoshino ogles him.

His hand falls between his legs, and he gives his dick an open grope.

Hoshino’s face goes red and he sits back down, burying his burning cheeks in his hands again, listening to the uproar of whistles around him. His head spins.

*

After the second round—against an ex-triad type in a frog-button styled suit which was also, ultimately, his demise—Kaito isn’t look as smug or hot as he was in the first fight. His face is red with the blows and his movements are less nimble. But he still comes out on top. Guys really care too much about their style to realize that they’re making themselves vulnerable, coming out in shirts, with long hair, or with jewelry on. Kaito isn’t above gripping onto whatever he can. He fights dirty.

On round three, Hoshino can’t watch. Yagami’s on his feet, yelling out as much encouragement as he can, but Hoshino’s got his face buried in his phone, trying to keep himself from looking up at the way Kaito’s being mand-handled onto his back by the Muay Thai champion of the world—according to the TV screen’s descriptor, at least. Gaowayan Pramuk is a lot smaller than Kaito, but he’s swift, and bouncy, and he hasn’t been in two fights already. Hoshino doesn’t think it’s fair—he thinks a traditional tournament style would make it more evenly matched, but they just send these fresh, ready-to-go fighters one after the other on an increasingly tired fighter.

Poor Kaito.

“Why’d you let him do this?” Hoshino suddenly whines, his anxiety developing into anger. He doesn’t care about the money anymore, even though Yagami’s bounty has increased to a swift fifty thousand yen—a hundred thousand if Kaito indeed wins this final fight. More than enough to keep him afloat for the month, even when he does split it with Hoshino.

“Me? He’s been doing this for years, Hoshino-kun. I’m just betting on it.”

“He’s getting hurt!”

“Yeah… That’s kind of how fights work.”

Hoshino grits his teeth at the sarcasm but keeps himself from replying sourly. Yagami doesn’t seem to think it’s too dire, so he clearly knows Kaito will be fine.

Still, he doesn’t look. Won’t lift his face out of his phone screen—even though he’s just playing a game of Puyo Puyo—until he hears the uproar of excitement from the crowd and the way Yagami shouts in joy.

Kaito has Gaowayan’s neck cradled between the trembling muscles of his thighs, squeezing him, somehow having tangled himself around the middleweight champion’s frame, and he has his arm pulled up hard over his head. Kaito lifts his elbow and brings it down brutally into the hard flesh of the underside of Gaowayan’s bicep, and a sickening crack, like a crab shell being opened in pliers, rings through the Coliseum. Hoshino feels a wave of nausea hit him as Gaowayan cries out.

“Did he just break his arm?!” Hoshino says.

“He sure did! Fuck yeah, Kaito-san!” Yagami calls into the ring with all his might, as the gong sounds for the final time, “You fucking saved my ass again!”

Kaito collapses on his back, exhausted, his limbs untangling from Gaowayan’s body. He manages to lift both hands and give dual peace signs to his adoring audience, and Yagami climbs over Hoshino’s lap to scurry back to the bet vendor.

Hoshino throws up.

*

“Keep it,” Hoshino huffs, when Yagami extends his half of the winnings.

“What?”

“I don’t want it. Keep it.”

“You’re kidding! Fifty thousand yen, Hoshino-kun. Here, it’s yours.”

“No. I don’t want it—you need it more than me. And if I give it to you now, you won’t drag me out to something this awful again next month!”

Yagami swings an arm around his shoulders and tugs him close as they sit outside the Coliseum, waiting for Kaito to join them. Hoshino looks out-of-place, boyish, and green around the gills, in this neon paradise of women barely clad in mini kimonos and businessmen paying for their company. The subway station smells of lotus flowers and cum, but it’s preferable to that iron-and-sweat stink of the Coliseum.

“It wasn’t that bad, Hoshino-kun. Come on, he won! He likes doing this, you know. It’s not like anyone _made_ him.”

“I heard what you said! You said he ‘saved you.’ I know he’s doing this for you. You used him, and you used me!”

“It’s not like that, Hoshino. He was gonna do this regardless. Just invited me to bet on it. Look, I’ll give you all the money.”

Hoshino looks at him. Yagami’s got genuine regret in his eyes now, the apologetic slant of his lips looking kind. Yagami’s a lot of things, but he isn’t a liar. That’s why he made such a good defense attorney. The guy’s his idol, under all that filth, and Hoshino sighs, lets his shoulders relax.

“No, keep it… I just—I didn’t want him to get hurt, you know?”

“Kaito’s made of steel, Hoshino.”

It isn’t just that, though. Hoshino feels—odd. He doesn’t like this mix of arousal and guilt pooling in his stomach, confusing him. He had seen a girl in a dress eating as she watched, her appetite completely unmitigated. And he had thought, _what kind of sadist can stomach food while they watch a fight?_ But then, there he was. Keeping an erection at bay the entire time. What a hypocrite.

He can’t figure it out. He’s never, ever found appeal in violence before. He even threw up.

But tonight, Kaito made the blood rush to his dick. He felt so—

Well, he just felt turned on. There was no beating around the bush about it.

He wanted to push open those bare thighs and see the fat cock he had grabbed. He wanted to pull off his compression shorts and give him head, just like he had done to Yagami. He wanted to kiss up his built chest and lick the sweat on his neck, wanted to bite his ear, wanted to push his hips back on his cock and take it like the girls in their small kimonos flirting openly in front of him.

Hoshino scrubs a clammy palm over his face.

“Look—he’s okay! See?”

Hoshino lifts his head and turns around, watching Kaito approach them. He’s damp from a shower and dressed in his usual outfit again, grinning in pain.

Before Hoshino can even think about what he’s doing, he scurries up to him and puts his hands on his shoulders, standing on the tip of his toes to survey his face. Kaito’s hands immediately fall to Hoshino’s hips, as if they’re a couple.

“Whoa, what’s all this?” he asks, like he didn’t just openly grope his cock at him, like the affection is startling. For a traditional little guy like Hoshino, though, it kind of is. Kaito never expected him to embrace him like this.

“Your face!” Hoshino huffs, “You need to fix it up as soon as you can. You need to disinfect all the cuts and get a splint on your nose. It’s all swollen!”

“Hey, we’ll deal with that when we get there. Why not congratulate me? Look what I won,” he says, and pulls a single bottle of Staminan XX out of his pocket.

Hoshino gapes.

“ _That’s it_?!”

“Well, yeah.”

Hoshino turns around, infuriated, and stomps up to Yagami, who’s sitting happily on the bench still, counting his yen. Which Hoshino quickly snatches from his hand.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

“No way. No _way_! Yagami is _not_ getting a hundred thousand yen while Kaito just gets a goddamn energy drink.”

He folds the cash and shoves it into Kaito’s chest. Kaito smirks and takes the money, quickly tucking it into his pocket with the Staminan XX. Yagami stands up and puts his hand on Hoshino’s scalp.

“What’s the idea? Thought you were letting me have it.”

“It isn’t fair. Kaito could’ve gotten really hurt, and all you did was watch. He deserves it more than you!”

Yagami clicks his tongue, rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Let him have it. I’ll just go play Dice and Cube or be a prostitute,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. His attempt at guilting Hoshino doesn’t seem to work well. _Oh well_ , Yagami thinks, as he watches Hoshino fret over Kaito’s swollen, blood-blistered face, _Hard to make yourself look like the victim when your nose isn’t bleeding_.

“You know there’s a point system, too, right? More I wrack up, more prizes I’ll be able to win. Like chips at a casino.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t gamble with your health like that.”

“These muscles aren’t just for show, Hoshino-kun,” Kaito says, walking in the direction the subway exit, his arms around both Yagami and Hoshino’s shoulders. There’s a spring in his step despite the soreness undoubtedly imbuing each of his limbs. “I got to put ‘em to use.”

“Why can’t you just play basketball or something?! Why does it have to be so violent? People can bet on basketball games, too, you know!”

“That’s not—that’s not even a bad idea…” Yagami murmurs, giving Kaito a side-glance.

Kaito shrugs.

“Guess this is more what I’m used to. But sure. I’ll ball on you sometime, Hoshino-kun. Isn’t it past your bedtime? Did Yagami wrangle you to come here?”

“Yes,” he pouts, “And he ruined my dinner, too. I’m starving…”

“Me too. Go home, Yagami. Me and Hoshino are gonna get food.”

Yagami gives him a smug, knowing little simper, and bows shortly as he breaks away from Kaito’s heavy arm.

“See you at the office, then,” Yagami gives a lazy, two-fingered salute, before those long legs take the exit’s steps two at a time, and Hoshino is left alone with the new champion.

*

As unbothered as both Kaito and Yagami seem about the state of Kaito’s face, Hoshino still busies himself with taking care of him. They’re in Hoshino’s apartment, and it’s nearing two in the morning. There’s no way Hoshino will be able to come into work refreshed, and he supposes he’s earned a day off. Genda will understand.

Kaito rests on Hoshino’s couch with a cup of cold Ito En green tea in his hand. Not exactly his preferred drink choice. He’d much rather be celebrating with a shochu seltzer with Yagami, but shit, he’s got a hundred thousand yen in his pocket. So, he’ll let the little dude have his way with him.

“You’d make a good parent, y’know that? Not the kinda guy you normally find in Kamurocho.”

Hoshino exhales through his lips as he wipes at his face with alcohol-soaked gauze. Kaito doesn’t flinch, just brings the tea to his lips and sips. Hoshino huffs, pushing his wrist down.

“Let me fix that blister…”

“See what I mean? You are so discerning. You really don’t seem like a city boy, Hoshino-kun. Let me guess—countryside Okinawa? Kobe?”

“Ugh, no,” he glowers, “I’m from Tokyo. Marunouchi.”

“Well, that explains the conservative severity, doesn’t it? Business district boy.”

“Can you hold still?” Hoshino huffs. Kaito just slouches and spreads his legs further, nudging Hoshino’s knee with his own, making him wobble a little, “Cut it out!”

“Why you gotta bark at me like that, man? Fuckin’ noisy little shit. Bet you’re like a goddamn chihuahua in bed.”

Hoshino’s cheeks flare red and he digs the piece of gauze in hard into his lip.

“Alright, alright. Got a little more bite than a chihuahua. Maybe a shiba inu, then.”

“Tilt your head back, let me clean your nostril.”

Kaito ducks his head, pressing his chin to his chest, the demonic little shit that he is. Making his life harder than it has to be. Suppose that’s what he gets for hanging around these ex-yakuza types.

“Stop being difficult. You don’t want it to crust up. If you’re staying the night, I don’t want to hear you snore because of a stuffed nose…”

Kaito continues to turn his head until Hoshino stamps his foot, like an insolent child. Then Kaito reaches forward and wraps his arms around the plush, soft skin of Hoshino’s hips. They have a considerable amount of fat on them, making him look cute, almost matronly. It makes Kaito’s balls clench up as he gathers Hoshino onto his lap.

“What are you—?!”

“Here,” Kaito tilts his head back, presenting his nostrils, one caked in blood, the bridge of his nose covered in a splint applied delicately by Hoshino. “Clean me up.”

Hoshino wipes away the flaky maroon blood with trembling hands. Kaito watches with his half-mast, adoring eyes. His little fan.

“You still wanna get something to eat?” Kaito asks.

Hoshino nods.

“Good thing we’re in the city that doesn’t sleep. I know a sweets shop that delivers all the time.”

Hoshino could go for something sweet.

“Okay,” he says, peeling himself off the warm, inviting spot of Kaito’s lap.

Kaito eyes his body up and down.

“I bet you really like sweets, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kaito smiles, playfully. The way Hoshino’s thighs rub together in those conservative black slacks really turns him on.

“That you’re a sweet boy.”

*

In the morning, Hoshino slides open the shoji styled screen door, miserable and exhausted. He’s glad Kaito didn’t insist on having any alcohol with him, otherwise his head would be pounding even more than it is now. They ended up staying awake until five, and now that it’s eight, Hoshino has to hustle his ass to work on only three hours of sleep. His stomach is full and heavy still with the contents of a taro cream cake that Kaito had ordered, and his skin feels waxy.

His shower is spent sitting on the tiles as the stream hits his head, surveying his own body. He feels a little embarrassed. Kaito kept making comments about the softness of his thighs, the fat around his midsection, even the slight tits he has. He’s not overweight, he doesn’t think—he’s just got a case of a skinny-fat body. It happens when you work at a desk all day.

It’s easy for Kaito to pick at him, with his toned, capable frame. Hoshino resolves not to be ashamed of his own body, though. He thinks he looks fine. There’s plenty of people that like bodies like his—and he’s not going to be mad at something that serves him so well. He doesn’t have to be the muscular, perfect man that Kaito is.

He stands up and rinses his hair out, dries off, and dresses in his usual wear. This time, it’s a dark blue suit, and crisp white shirt. He clips his garters to the end of his shirt to keep it from wrinkling, watches how the skin of his thighs bulges out slightly from the strap. He feels shy about it, suddenly, and quickly pulls his slacks up over his legs.

As he walks by Kaito, who’s sleeping soundly beneath the kotatsu, he takes a moment to stuff his backpack with the files he needs for today’s case and watches him. His face is shiny with newly developing, multicolored bruises, but the blood is gone, and any lacerations have begun healing. Hoshino mentally praises himself for the work he’s done, and with one more lingering glance at the way his shirtless body is framed beneath the blanket, the way his thick, relaxed torso is half-concealed, his pecs heavy and more tit-like than _his_ would ever be, Hoshino leaves the apartment.

*

“Are you sure you want to stay all night again?” Genda asks tentatively, his hand on the exit, his briefcase beneath his armpit. Saori has long since left, but Hoshino still taps away at his keyboard. Genda knows he stayed the night before, but he doesn’t know how late. The guy seems to be sinking in his own office chair, and rather than eat lunch, he caught a nap on the leather couches set out for visitors.

“I have to. Didn’t catch up with work like I was planning to yesterday, so here I am…”

“Well, don’t burn yourself out too much, Hoshino-kun. I trust you’ll lock up.”

“Of course, Genda-han,” Hoshino says, glancing up from his laptop to give him a polite smile that doesn’t make its way into his glassy eyes. Poor guy needs to sleep more, but there’s no way he can pry that typical overworking tendency out of a salaryman like Hoshino. Genda just gives him a short bow and leaves for the night.

For a while, Hoshino works, the tapping of his fingers on the key and the ticking of the clock monotonous and repetitive, the sound of productiveness. But soon it begins to lull him, and his vision becomes soft, the lights of the office glowing goldenly, the laptop too bright. So, he closes it, leans back in his office chair a little, rolling his shoulders. Lets the tension out of his neck.

He thinks about going home. Crawling under that kotatsu with Kaito’s big body—though he doubts he’s still there—and curling up with him. Their legs entangled under the heated table, feeling those capable thighs that strangled a Muay Thai champion gentle and protective against his own soft, vulnerable thighs.

Hoshino exhales between his lips and his eyes flutter open as he hears the turn of the doorknob.

He blinks rapidly. Kaito walks in with a small, rectangular box in his hands. Hoshino immediately identifies what it is from first glance—it’s a tray of mochi, the glistening kanji on the box identifiable by its gold flake text. He’s a little ashamed to recognize sweets so quickly, but he blames Saori. She eats them more than he does.

“What are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to throw your dinner on the floor like Ta-Bo.”

Hoshino laughs softly and reaches out for the box, which Kaito hands to him. Kaito takes a seat in Saori’s desk and spins around a little.

“Thanks, Kaito-san,” Hoshino says, opening the top and sliding out the tray. He picks up the orange one—mango daifuku, he suspects—and shoves it in his mouth. Kaito stops spinning and watches him eat.

Hoshino chews, a little uncomfortable. Kaito doesn’t seem to be too attentive about anything other than fighting, but just like last night, when he was eating, Kaito’s focus seems to zero in on Hoshino. He stares at him far too intensely, those scarred brows knitted in concentration, his plum-colored, thick lips tucked under his teeth. Hoshino stops chewing and swallows, wiping his mouth of the powdered sugar.

“…Why do you stare at me when I eat?”

Kaito shakes his head a little and grins, standing up from the chair and walking over to him. He sits with his hip akimbo on the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest. Hoshino watches the way his biceps press against the cloth of his shirt.

“Same reason you check me out, Hoshino-kun.”

“Eh?!”

“Don’t act coy. I saw you looking me over when I was fighting. You were into it.”

“But—but what does that have to do with… with you watching me eat?”

“Oh, so you’re not denying it? Good, that saves us some time.”

Hoshino just stares, confused, his cheeks fat and puffed with the dessert. Kaito licks the pad of his thumb and wipes away the powdered sugar still clinging to his cheek. Hoshino jumps a little—the facsimile of the way he cleaned Kaito’s wounds is not lost on him. He suddenly realizes what the attraction is, then. The same way he nursed the wounds that are a result of Kaito’s incredible physique, Kaito’s bringing him the food that results in Hoshino’s physique.

“Oh… So—” Hoshino blushes furiously. He can feel the heat on the bridge of his nose, and he can’t bring himself to make eye contact with the half-mast gander that Kaito sends his way. The neon lights from outside the office paints Kaito in a dewy, nighttime glow, and he looks as predatory as he did in the ring the night before.

“I think you have the prettiest body I’ve ever seen on a dude.”

Hoshino keeps his eyes firmly on his desk. He didn’t expect that. Even with Yagami, he was fully clothed when he blew him. He knows he isn’t—the _ideal_ man. He’s not strong and muscular like Kaito. Not lean and nimble like Yagami. Not even thin and toned the way Sugiura is. He’s just an average guy that indulges in sweets a little too much. And yet—

“You’re making a fool out of me.”

“I’m serious, Hoshino-kun,” Kaito says, and then Hoshino’s suddenly being hoisted, far too roughly, out of his seat, Kaito’s big hands under his armpits, like he’s a cat. He makes a squeak that he’ll most certainly deny making and stares at him, finally. Sees the lust on his face, clear as day. Looks down at Kaito’s crotch.

“I’m sure Yagami told you I’ve been thinking about you for a while now.”

That’s right. Hoshino had considered it a joke.

“I—I thought he was kidding.”

“Why?” Kaito clears the paperwork on his desk with a sweep of his arm and sits Hoshino down on it. Hoshino huffs. These guys really like making messes of his office, don’t they? “You got no self-esteem, Hoshino-kun. And you need it. Look at you, man. Look at that fucking face. You ever see yourself? You’ve got no reason to be humble. No reason. Look at your body.”

Kaito cups his cheeks, then strokes them down his neck, to his shoulders, his sides. Gropes openly at his hips. Hoshino makes no move to push him away, so Kaito goes further, and pets his thighs. “Fucking perfect. You’re made to be fucked. I mean, I could take you with a little more weight, really, but this is good, too.”

“Is that why you got me cake and mochi? Trying to fatten me up?”

“Something like that. Nothing extreme, okay?” Kaito grins and bumps their foreheads together. Hoshino’s a bit overwhelmed at the sudden show of affection, but his legs spread for him anyway, letting Kaito stand between them, “Just like seeing you happy and well-fed. Always wanted a cute boy-wife who I can spoil with food, you know?”

Hoshino pushes at his chest, weakly, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

“You’re so weird, Kaito-san.”

“Yeah, I know. Well aware of it, babe. Now, let me fuck your ass.”

Hoshino jumps.

“Come on. I know you like dick. Yagami told me you sucked him off before. But I won’t make you do any of that. You’re not gonna have to move a muscle. I’ll take care of you. And my dick is bigger and nicer than Yagami’s, I guarantee it.”

“You two can’t keep a secret, can you?”

“No,” Kaito grins, and tilts his head, letting his lips part, “Now, let’s fuck.”

Hoshino, for all his purported shyness, for his perpetual embarrassment, for his convictions and his shame, can’t find a reason to say no. Not when he’s boxed in by this big fighter who’s eyeing him like he’s as sweet as the mochi he’s bought for him, not when his dick twitches in his underwear at the praise Kaito showers on him.

“Um…” he shrugs, then throws his arms around his neck, “A-alright. Let’s go home.”

“Why would we need to do that?” Kaito asks confidently and leans down to bite at the crevice of his moon white, soft neck. Hoshino jumps at the strange brutality mixed with tenderness, “I brought everything with me.”

*

Hoshino has never had sex before. The closest he came before sucking Yagami’s dick was watching some girl outside of a club scratch at her inner thigh beneath a miniskirt the color and texture of tinfoil, before catching him staring and sending him a blown kiss—the same way Kaito blew kisses at his audience. He hadn’t known then that he wasn’t _really_ into women. That he just thought he should be, and that he just hadn’t met the right pretty girl, yet.

Who knew the brutish, 6’5” man kneeling between his legs that are spread as he lays on his own desk is the guy that’s gonna take his virginity? Hoshino has his bare arm flung over his eyes as Kaito rims him with noisy, wet sounds—so lewd and disgusting, the kind he’s only heard in kiss scenes in movies. He feels as though his cheeks are on _fire_.

It took quite a bit of convincing for Kaito to get him to fuck in the office. But Hoshino seemed to melt under the compliments more than anything, and as soon as Kaito dipped his fingers into the front of those slacks, it was game over for Hoshino. It’s not that he’s losing his strict personality when it comes to professionalism. It’s just that Hoshino’s desperation and exhaustion are simply more powerful than whatever reservations a fully rested Hoshino might have. A Hoshino that didn’t witness the way Kaito openly groped at his cock over a pair of compression shorts that concealed nothing. Maybe Hoshino’s a little starstruck. Having Kaito do that for him whenever he was at the height of some sort of glory went to his ego. And then to have him feed him treats and purr over his body—how’s a guy like him going to resist that? Hasn’t Hoshino been good for long enough? Hasn’t he waited long enough?

Kaito slips his thumbs under the garters that he’s insisted Hoshino leave on and hauls him impossibly closer. Kaito’s face is buried in Hoshino’s ass, his mouth working at the few inches of virgin hole that Hoshino has for him. He makes a point of sucking loudly, feeling the twinge in the muscle of Hoshino’s thigh as he moans high-pitched and broken, before he pulls back and gives it a few lazy, noisy licks. Slurps against his rim for good measure.

“You taste good, Hoshino-kun.”

“Th-that’s embarrassing…”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he mumbles, kissing at the junction of his thigh, biting down on the soft, chubby flesh there. Hoshino sits up on his elbows to watch, curiously. Kaito has big, with teeth, his canines particularly pointy. He thinks it’s cute.

“I think you’re pretty sopping now,” Kaito mumbles, licking over the flesh he just bit. A soft pink mark blooms there, a ring of the gentle bite, like the petals of a camellia. Everything about Hoshino seems pure, innocent—even his skin is like fallen snow, untouched and unmarked. Kaito feels smug, proud to be the first one to lay his mark on him. Even if it’s a little animalistic of a thought.

He lets Hoshino’s legs ease up as he leans up on his haunches to bury his nose against Hoshino’s dick. Hoshino’s eyes widen and his hand goes to Kaito’s head, pushing him back with an instinctive little jump of fear in his chest.

“Don’t.”

Hoshino relaxes once more at that one, simple word, and lays back. He stares at the fluorescent lights overhead, at the air conditioning unit that coughs out a few drafts of cool air, making Hoshino’s bare body tremble. Kaito noses at Hoshino’s smooth, half-chubbed cock, taking in deep inhales like he smells like roses or something, exhaling through his mouth after. He nudges his nose against his balls and sighs, peaceful as a monk in a monastery, before he mouths at the side of Hoshino’s small penis.

That’s how he pleasures him for a while: just lazily licking and smacking and inhaling the smell of this cute dick, as chubby as the rest of him, not once taking him into his mouth or throat. It’s almost like worship, Hoshino realizes, and wonders if Kaito has checked him out as much as Hoshino’s checked him out. Opposites, and all that.

Kaito’s hands are as big as the rest of them, and as he squeezes Hoshino’s thighs and stands up, the flesh between his fingers squishes up. Kaito suddenly flops back into Hoshino’s office chair and undoes the front of his pants. Then thinks about it, and decides—fuck it—he’ll undress, too. They’re already this deep in.

Hoshino watches with a dazed look on his face, his head swimming, as Kaito reveals inch after inch of tanned skin pockmarked with various bruises from the night before. They barely stop him from looking as beautiful as he is, though. That body is one of power, and Kaito grins when he sees Hoshino’s bottom lip go shiny with spit.

“Nice, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“How I feel about you,” Kaito says, kicking his clothes into a pile under Hoshino’s desk. For a moment, Hoshino’s vision catches on the white, circular scar of a bullet wound, before it trails down his impressive abdomen to land on his even more impressive cock. He wasn’t lying about being bigger than Yagami—no wonder he gave himself a proud shake in front of a crowd. His dick is fucking _big_.

Although he’s hard, it still hangs lazily between his spread legs, and Hoshino feels inadequate in comparison. Where Hoshino has a short, thick dick befitting his body type, Kaito’s is heavy, his foreskin pushed down around a glisteningly dark head—not unlike the umeboshi Yagami had inadvertently thrown to the floor—the veins in them stark and his balls full. He looks like he’s _made_ to breed, especially with his dick a few shades darker than the rest of his body.

“You wanna lube me up?”

Hoshino nods, mute and starstruck and he takes the proffered bottle of lube from him. He spills too much of it directly onto Kaito’s dick, earning a little hiss through Kaito’s grit teeth.

“Couldn’t have warmed it in your hands first?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yes,” Kaito laughs, “Damn, Hoshino-kun? You ain’t never watch porn or something?”

Hoshino blinks at him, “No? Why would I?”

For a moment, Kaito can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. After he continues to stare at that stupid, dazed face, he realizes he’s not. What an innocent bitch. The head probably sucked, now that he thinks about it—virgins with no experience probably give awful head. Poor Yagami.

Good thing they give great pussy, though.

“Alright,” Kaito says, watching Hoshino’s delicate wrist work and turn as he jerks him off, “That’s good. That’s good. Now… Come here…”

Kaito takes the bottle from his hand and tosses it atop the desk, where it opens and oozes on what Kaito hopes are some not-too-important documents. He can’t be too concerned with it, not when he picks up Hoshino to pull onto his lap, turning him around so that his back is pressed against Kaito’s chest.

“You gotta work it in yourself,” Kaito mumbles, humping his ass, rubbing off right between his thick cheeks. They’re so plush, warm—he could probably use him like this. The thought makes his cock impossibly harder, and Hoshino huffs as Kaito’s dick begins leaking between his cheeks.

“I—I don’t know how…”

“Here we go,” he whispers, “Here’s that little virgin hole…”

Hoshino lets out a broken, pathetic noise as Kaito very carefully positions his cock as his cunt, the fat head pressing against an incredible tight rim. His furl barely gives, even as Kaito circles his head around his pussy for a moment.

“Just relax. Loosen up… That’s it, baby, just calm down…” He should have brought poppers, he thinks, but he has no idea where to get some. He’s never had a need—but with a tight virgin like this, they’d probably be more than helpful.

Kaito continues to sweet talk him, to stroke his body, to squish at the flesh around his midsection, up his chest, to grope openly at his cute little tits. He thumbs at his puffy nipples—he really is so much like a girl—and works his cock, inch by slow inch, into that tight hole.

It almost hurts. Hoshino’s so tight, he hasn’t even been fingered before, probably—at least not thoroughly enough to take cock. But the burn is good, and the little cries Hoshino makes are all worth it, the way his hands scramble for purchase on his desk, the shallow, panicked breaths he takes, the way he still pushes his hips back, so eager to please, despite the modicum of pain he’s no doubt experiencing.

Kaito’s glad he used so much lube, because he sinks up and up until he feels like he’s nestled inside of Hoshino’s belly, until his inner warmth encases his shaft completely. He lets Hoshino sit there for a while, adjusting to his girth, his insides clenching up and then relaxing, over and over. It almost feels like his pussy is sucking him in, nursing his dick.

“Okay, okay. You good?”

Hoshino’s head nods shortly, and the sound he makes is a small but undeniable affirmative.

Kaito smacks his thigh, “Alright, let’s take it slow. Move those hips, baby, take my cock…”

Hoshino’s feet find purchase on the edge of the chair and he pushes up, whimpering softly, his hole tugging around his dick like it doesn’t want to let go. He pulls himself up his shaft until only the head is inside, and then Kaito—as suddenly and brutally as one of his thrown punches in the rings—thrusts up. Hits his prostate on the first try and relishes in the squeak that Hoshino produces.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. _Goddamn_ —”

“No—no… It feels—it feels good,” Hoshino says, his words slurred with spit, “I like it.”

“Yeah? Good, ‘cause I’m gonna seed up this little pussy before the end of the night. Don’t have to use a condom with a virgin like you. Get to feel everything,” Kaito growls, fucking his hips up again, punctuating his sentence with a hard upward thrust of his dick, right on his prostate.

“ _Uhn_ …”

Kaito continues slamming his hips up into him like that, letting Hoshino ride him the best he can with what little purchase he has in the space of Kaito’s lap. Hoshino can’t quite catch a rhythm, and each time Kaito thrusts into him, it’s at random, off-setting any pace he might get, making the pleasure spark like electricity to his arms, his feet, his toes curling.

At some point, Hoshino gives up trying to ride him, and just sits down fully, his feet on the ground again, his hole sliding down around his shaft, encasing him once more in that warmth. Kaito gathers his body in both arms, holding him for a while, letting him sit in place on his cock, wrapped in his biceps. Hoshino relaxes back against him.

Fuck.

“Your cock is in me,” he mumbles, like he’s suddenly just realizing this. “Your cock is in my ass. It’s in me. You’re going to cum inside of me, like you’re going to get a girl pregnant. Your dick is inside of me.”

Kaito groans into his neck at Hoshino’s words. They’re simply observation, not necessarily dirty talk, but there’s something so hot about wrecking innocence like this, about Hoshino realizing what exactly is going on—that he’s not the upright, strict salaryman he thought he was. Kaito breathes against his ear, listening to him go on and on.

“Your dick is in me… You licked my asshole. That’s so dirty, Kaito-san. You’re so dirty. You think I’m cute because I’m chubby. That’s so _weird_. You’re wei—”

He hiccups out the last word as Kaito suddenly stands up, his dick still inside of him, his arms hooked under those plush thighs that Hoshino can’t seem to live down. He turns them around and presses Hoshino chest-first against the window overlooking Kamurocho. Hoshino shrieks in embarrassment.

“Kaito-san! You—that’s—”

“Shut up. Let everyone see what a slut you’re gonna be from now on. _My_ dickslut.”

Hoshino makes a broken, wounded noise of near betrayal. He’s lucky the few feet of wall beneath the window hides most of what’s going on below the hips from view, but there’s no way someone passing by wouldn’t see two naked bodies pressed up together, Kaito’s hands framing Hoshino’s much smaller ones on the glass, and not immediately figure out what’s going on.

“Right? You’re gonna be mine, right? Gonna be my plaything. Shit, maybe I’ll wife you up, huh?”

It’s fucking humiliating, but Hoshino’s dick doesn’t seem to care. The minute he’s thrust into, and his body is pressed against the cool glass, his sensitive, puffy nipples pressed up there, his cock shoots off a load thicker than anything he’s ever produced before. It splatters on the wall, and not unlike the spilled bento box, trickles down to the floor.

“Oh, shit! Did you just fucking cum?” he asks, thrusting in brutally, before dragging his dick out slow, a miserable drag of flesh inside flesh, and then slamming up again. Hoshino cries out, his oversensitive dick twitching and pumping out another few shots of cum, wrenched out of his tight, perfect balls from Kaito’s sheer brutality.

“What a disgusting boy, cumming all over the wall. You like being shown off, don’t you? Little exhibitionist, just like me. I’m a show-off, too. Too bad you didn’t cum on the window. Then everyone could get a good view of that pretty mouth when I make you lick it—off the— _fuck_ —fucking wall— _ahh_!”

Apparently turned on by his own words, Kaito digs in deep, his balls slapping against Hoshino’s ass, his rim clenching up tight around his shaft. Clinging onto him, Hoshino’s body still pressed flat against the window, his cheek, his tits pressed to it. Standing on his toes, strained from the height difference. And he stays like that, a perfect receptacle for cum, a slut to take whatever Kaito has to give.

Kaito hunkers over him and growls, his balls clenching as he unloads inside of him, filling this pretty virgin with his first taste of cum, his hands on either fat asscheek, clenching so hard he’ll have marks to match the bruises on Kaito’s own body.

His hips jerk with short aftershocks of pleasure, spurting inside of him. He wishes Hoshino could feel it, could feel how hot and sticky it is, coating that perfect cunt that just takes care of his dick so well.

Maybe next time he’ll pull out and push Hoshino on his knees and jerk off on his face. But the first time is best spent seeded up. A proper dicking, through and through. And Hoshino came on his dick. He really came on his cock. What a fucking slut.

Kaito pulls out, slowly, watching Hoshino’s doughy, soft cheeks—now marked with Kaito’s bruising grip—clench up around his dick, as if he doesn’t want to let him go. But he pulls out fully and pushes his cheeks open to watch that brutalized, now-gaping hole leak drop after drop of cum.

“Now that’s a pretty sight.”

“Feels so nasty. And I have to clean up…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. My mess,” Kaito apologizes. Hoshino slumps against the wall, nodding, his body shaking with exhaustion. Probably the most physical activity he’s had in a while. Kaito picks him up, bridal style, and eases him into the office chair. Hoshino gives a sleepy, slow blink at him, about to fall asleep where he sits.

“Tired, huh? I really wore you out.”

“Mmhm.”

“Once I’m done with all this,” Kaito gestures to the mess of the desk, the cum, the handprints on the window, “I’ll have to clean out your pussy, too.”

Hoshino nods, too exhausted to argue with the terminology Kaito’s decided to use.

“…Got you stuffed as full as those mochi, didn’t I?”

Hoshino grins, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand, “Bring me another box—at my _home_ next time—and maybe I’ll let you kiss me, too.”

Kaito quickly dips down, his hands on the armrest of the chair, to press their lips together. Righting his wrong. What an asshole he is. Fuck the guy, and don’t even give him a proper kiss. Hoshino tastes of powdered sugar and sweat.

Hoshino—thankfully—reciprocates.

**Author's Note:**

> quick disclaimer: this is very, VERY heavily inspired by [my guy's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_No_Angel/pseuds/Im_No_Angel) depiction of hoshino in his fic [hard bargain.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018038/chapters/63263050) everything from hoshino's apartment to the way this fic's structured is based on his fic. it is probably my fave recent judgment fic and made my dick diamonds for hoshino, so if u enjoyed this, i'd recommend his as well!!! hoshino is cute and needs more love.
> 
> [my carrd](https://bibles.carrd.co/)


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